A Shattered Dream
by adreanajayne13
Summary: Severus Snape discovers his two year old daughter one evening, and decides to take her in. They build a relationship, but it all ends abruptly one day. Short story.


Severus Snape wasn't always lonely. He once had a daughter, an ignorant, stubborn girl by the name of Jelana. Jelena Snape.

The child was an accident, born from one of his affairs. He honestly didn't know who, but he was just fine thank you very much not knowing. Severus knew from the very moment when he found her in that box on his kitchen table that cold, clear night that *this* toddler, this sleeping little girl was his.

Jelana had looked very much like her father, dark, cold eyes, dark hair, and, sadly, a hooked nose which stuck out from her face like a beak. She had not only resembled him physically, but personally. Up until her violent death at the age of six, she was a spiffing image of him. She was stubborn, independent, cold, and biased. She cared for nothing except for everything. She was a pot of emotions which refused to pour, but Severus loved her more than himself.

At first, he was terrified. A *child*. His own *child*. As he lifted her out of the box that evening, he didn't even linger on the fact that someone had broken into his home. As he lifted her out of the box, he brushed her thin hair off of her forehead and started to plan for the next day.

Taking her to his bedroom, he laid her next to him in the vacant bed, and settled next to her. He hardly slept. How could he house a child when he hardly took care of himself? How could he love a child when every time he fell in love they perished? This child could turn out to be anyone, could do anything. Thoughts washed around in his head, flooding him. Finally, as the sun started to rise in the navy blue sky, he fell asleep.

Hardly an hour passed when Severus's lanky hair was suddenly pulled to the point of tearing by a tiny fist.

"Are you a *lady*?" A small, oddly quiet voice giggled furiously. Slowly, he recalled last night's events. Oh. He had a child. This girl is his daughter.

*His daughter.*

With closed eyes, he growled,

"No. I am your father," the giggles stopped abruptly. "Merlin help me, why are you up so damn early?"

"But I'm *hungry*," she suddenly wailed, as if he were telling her to go back to sleep. "Is there eggs? Mommy makes me eggs. She told me that when I woke-ted up that-that the man would make me eggs if I said pease."

That's curious, he thought. The child knew she was coming? The mother planned this?

He rolled over, becoming face to face with the girl. Her eyes, filled with hope, were wide open, were almost black. He couldn't even make out her pupils. She was so completely pale, the white sheets seemed dirty, though he had had them washed two days ago. She lay on her stomach, propped up with her elbows. The girl was awfully skinny for a toddler. Oh, wait. It suddenly hit him he didn't even know her first name.

"What's your name?" He asked.

"What's *your* name?" She perked. "I want my *eggs*," Were all children this difficult?

Patience was not an attribute after being woken up at the crack of dawn. "Tell me your name and I'll give you your bloody eggs!"

"Jelana!" Jelana sat up quickly, starting to bounce on her knees with a smile to charm the moon. "I want the circle part like a balloon 'cause I can stab it and watch it bleed and lick it." Well, alright then.

"Interesting," Severus muttered as he sat up and stretched.

Four years passed. Four years that turned out to be very, very interesting indeed.

At the age of two she knew several different ways to murder, discovered once Severus found his cat dead on the doorway. She also killed the neighbor's cat, rabbit, dog, and, somehow, the post owl before he scolded her to a halt.

This worried him. Was he a good father? How on earth do you raise a girl that can grin so innocently as she stabs kittens with her father's cooking knives? That night he fled to the library, in search for a how-to book on parenting. A week later, after several dozen novels, he was brimming with confusion. Finding nothing, he decided to observe her, and simply correct anything she was doing that seemed wrong.

She ate absolutely nothing but eggs and broccoli. He begged, pleaded, bribed, threatened, but nothing convinced her to eat another food. He deprived her of food for two whole days, something he still shames over, but he had felt he had no choice. She never gave in. She looked healthier though, than when he first acquired her, which was the only reason he didn't resort to force by magic.

Jelana liked to wear dresses. He found this amusing, as she liked the ones that stuck around her in a circle, making her a walking teacup. Red dresses, glittering dresses, satin, striped, rainbow, any dress he could find was hers to own, if she behaved properly. Any other child with this luxury he would have considered spoiled rotten, but then again, he had never liked any other child. The sight of her lightning smile and sparkling eyes as she tried on her new clothes made his heart melt, made him long to see it again and again. Severus would have given anything for her to stay that age forever, innocent and lovely.

But, sadly, she grew up quickly. Her hair grew to her waist, her nose wasn't so revolting, her attitude more tolerable, her dresses more lady-like. To Severus, she was the sweetest, most beautiful little girl in the world. Yet she was the most ridiculously behaved brat he had ever met. Yet he loved her. He tied her shoes till she learned, he tucked her in every single night, just to be woken when she crawled in to his own bed later. He made her ruddy eggs, cooked her ruddy broccoli. He wasn't the perfect father, oh no. He said things he didn't mean, he ignored her at times he shouldn't have, and maybe, just maybe, he wasn't disciplining her enough. Or maybe she had too much discipline. He did try though, as much as he possibly could. No amount of love and care, no amount of fathering, could stop an accident.

It was almost Jelana's seventh birthday, a fine, sunlit day in March when his life lost meaning. Few days prior, the girl had sent an order by mail, with her father's permission of course, for a pastel purple gown with matching flats. She spent every minute of her free time at the front window, watching the mailbox to be sure it didn't run away before her clothing arrived.

As the sun started to set, two barn owls carrying a box about two square feet in volume arrived at their mail box. Setting the package down gently, they rested a bit, and took off again.

"Father it's *here*!" Without bothering to slip her shoes on, she whipped open the door and ran outside, not bothering to close it, either.

Frustrated, Severus got up from the plush chair, set his open book on the side table and went to the door.

A muggle's red pickup truck was speeding down the road. Jelana was walking leisurely across, minding the sharp rocks.

The truck was speeding down the road. It was red. Red as the blood suddenly pouring out of her head as she lay on the road. Her leg was bent the wrong way. She was facedown, silent. Her hair was getting soaked with rivers of blood.

*My child is laying on the road. My child is bleeding on the road.* Severus couldn't process that. He felt confused, confused like a child learning algebra. Like a child. Like his child.

The disturbing sound of her head cracking and her neck snapping backwards sounded through his mind.

He hurled of the side of the railing on the porch, tears started raining off of his face. Oh, God. Oh, God. What just happened? Why did he have to see that? Stupid, stupid, ignorant child. Blessed child.

Once he could contain himself, he strode slowly towards her limp body. She was so obviously gone, why bother running?

*Her dress is stained,* he thought absurdly, seeing her life flow around her. How much blood can a child produce? He was now a mere foot away from her. He knelt down and lifted her hair off of her eyes with shaking fingers. Her cold, glassy eyes were open, blood seeping out of them. His heart slammed through his throat, bringing with is a wave of tears.

"No, no. Jelana. Stop it. Please," he begged her lifeless form.

*"You've killed her."*

Severus cried out loud, a wail that cut through the air, a knife of regret and pain. Bring her back, please bring her back. She's a *child.*

*"You've killed her,"* A sharp voice in his head taunted. A lady's voice. She sounded so familiar.

*"You've killed her."*

He lay his head on his dead daughter and cried for what seemed like a thousand lifetimes, all the while that awful voice laughing in his head.

*"You've killed her."*

"Please."

*"You've killed her."*

Two years passed, but not a night did when he didn't cry for his little Jelana. He planted rose bushes all around her grave, the grave he dug himself. He constructed a stone structure around it, protecting it from harm, disintegrating with a satisfying flick of his wand every damned animal that touched such a sacred place. Any one who laid eyes on the monument would picture a queen of high respect, but Severus despised it, for it was not grand enough to house his daughter. No material was important enough to even compare to her. Nothing was.

His world became dark. Those flowers she loved withered and died. Eggs and broccoli tasted like clay. He closed his windows, he locked his door at all times. Not a smile passed his lips for years. He forgot how. There was no happiness in him, no joy. Just a numbness he clung on to in avoidance of the pain. Every single night, he lay alone in his bed, tears pouring out uncontrollably as he heard Bellatrix Lestrange's voice giggle madly, chanting,

*"You've killed her."*

*"You've killed her."*

*"Great going, Sevie! You've killed her."*


End file.
